The First Five Times
by hibbleton
Summary: Five vignettes, Derek/Meredith.


**Author's note**: Light Years is not on hiatus, so much as it is being very, very slowly written. Thanks for your patience :)

* * *

And everyday, it's changed since then  
In every way, I've changed since then  
-- _The First Five Times_, Stars

1.

Derek remembered more about that first night than he let on. He slowly sipped his scotch while his companion threw back shot after shot. He had been a little worried that she would end the night unconscious on the filthy floor, but he was desperate enough for her company that he stayed.

He didn't know what it was about her, but his whole world shifted when he heard her laugh. And at the end of the night, it was him on her floor, exhausted from some of the best sex he'd ever had. Passing out on top of her wasn't his smoothest move.

He remembered how it started. They sat at the bar, talking about everything and nothing for an hour. They shared quick wit and banter, never steering the conversation in a direction that made it personal. He never even thought to ask her name, which was his second-least smooth move of the night. Picking up women wasn't his game – he was usually merely the wingman, sitting with his friend until the latter found his conquest of the night. Then Derek would return home to his wife, laughing to himself about the story he would hear the next morning from his friend.

His former friend.

The first time. She had no idea how much he needed it. When she decided she'd had enough of the small talk and tequila, she leaned over and whispered into his ear, "we should get out of here." He quickly slid his credit card over to the bartender and drummed his fingers nervously atop the bar waiting for the transaction to be completed. His companion laughed, and he was glad she couldn't remember the details of that particular action the next morning.

They kissed under the neon lights of the Emerald City Bar sign, waiting for their cab to arrive. It was the first time in fifteen years he'd felt lips other than Addison's on his, but he wasn't thinking about Addison. He wasn't thinking about anything, except that he felt intoxicated and he couldn't tell if it was the alcohol or the woman in his arms.

He spent the night in awe of her. She was completely uninhibited, but not in a way that made him feel intimidated. He worried for a moment when he realized he hadn't come to the bar prepared for sex because he was never the type to have one night stands, but after they stumbled into her house, his pants already undone by her quick hands, she emptied the contents of her tiny purse and pulled out a short string of condoms.

Obviously, she was the type, but it didn't scare him. He was no slouch in bed, though he was perhaps out of practice and "in bed" didn't quite apply that night. When climbing another set of stairs seemed too daunting of a task, they started on the kitchen table, moved to the kitchen doorway and crawled over the living room couch before the lack of mobility there led them to the floor. He felt more alive than he had in months, maybe even years, and he knew that he could quickly become addicted to her.

When she kicked him out the next morning, he was already thinking up an elaborate plan to see her again.

2.

He would have preferred if she was sober the second time, but he took what he could get. She denied his frequent advances at the hospital and he was starting to worry that he'd never get through to her. He needed her and he didn't know why. He took a chance, went out on a limb, and showed up at her house. He couldn't believe his luck (though he figured someone up there owed him) when he saw her dancing her little dance on the porch. And she had tequila. He knew he had a shot when he saw the tequila.

He didn't consider it taking advantage because she walked up to him of her own accord, leaned in and kissed him. He was never going to force himself on her. When he was still trying to think up a way to get them naked without going caveman – throwing her over his shoulder and charging up to her bedroom – she whispered, "Take me for a ride, Derek." Sex in his car isn't something he would have considered in his old life, in New York, but he couldn't have denied her anything at that point.

The limited space wasn't a challenge to the flexible girl in his arms. He did his best to keep up, but in the end, it was really her taking _him_ for a ride. He was ready to continue the night in her bedroom to make up for his less-than-stellar performance when the woman they called "the Nazi" knocked on his window. He hadn't felt so thoroughly busted since he was a child, standing in front of his mother, hiding the snipped end of one of his sister's pigtails behind his back.

He should have known better. He shouldn't have had sex with an intern in a car with clear windows, in front of a house filled with her colleagues. He knew these things, but none of them mattered when he was with her.

3.

It was probably the most romantic thing he'd ever experienced, and unlike anything in his life with Addison, it cost him nearly nothing. He had no idea what she was doing, standing out in the rain by his car. He was tired – almost too tired to play their game, but there she was with a bottle of wine and a shy smile. She was giving him a chance and he suddenly had to fight to keep his cool.

He took her to a quiet all-night diner in the financial district that some of the other doctors had mentioned. It was filled with overworking lawyers and businessmen, still typing away on their laptops or BlackBerries. He pretended to be appalled when she ordered fries (albeit fancy ones) and mozzarella sticks, but when she pushed them into the middle of the table, he picked more than a few from her plate.

An hour before sunrise, he followed her directions to a park. The rain had stopped and the clouds had dissipated, giving them a clear view of the first rays of light over the horizon. He pulled the waterproof emergency blanket from the trunk of his car and laid it out on the damp grass. She looked at him like he was crazy as he took his shoes and socks off and laid down. He got up on one elbow and gave her what he hoped was his best charming look, and she finally joined him. The breeze off the water was chilly, so he used it as an excuse to wrap his arms around her. They sipped wine straight from the bottle – she'd brought glasses but they were too cumbersome on the soft surface – and watched as the day began in Seattle.

He quickly learned that she didn't hold her wine as well as she held her tequila. When the sun had just barely entered sky view, she became restless. He loosened his arms around her and she used the space to turn around and kiss his neck. He thought about stopping her. He thought about the public indecency charges and having his name end up in the paper. He thought about his reputation.

He wrapped a hand around her hair, tilted her head upwards and kissed her slowly. The wine spilled, tilted and forgotten, as he lost himself in her again.

4.

"So this is what your bedroom looks like," he said. She shushed him, telling him that her roommates were asleep and they couldn't know about him.

Roommates. Derek thought he was well past that point in his life. Still, he was unreasonably excited about finally having her in bed. He had never had sex with someone multiple times without ending up in a bed, though he imagined his friend Mark would have a few stories about it.

Mark. With his wife.

He shook the thought from his head and concentrated on the woman undressing in front of him. It was early, he knew, but he'd never met someone who always wanted him as much as he wanted her. He felt empowered, to be so desired. It was a dangerous feeling, he knew, that would lead to uncharacteristic brazenness and errors in judgment.

For all he knew, it already had.

He took her to dinner after her shift, followed by a few drinks on an outdoor patio, making it well past midnight when they sneaked into her house. It was a frivolous sex-delaying evening but he wanted to put an effort into making sure their relationship developed outside of the physical. He had no question they were compatible in that area, but he was also intrigued by her intellect. He wanted to know more about her. He wanted to know everything about her. It was hard to carry long conversations without sharing much of himself, but he was getting better at it.

Here, in her bedroom, he didn't have to think about anything except the best way to make her scream.

5.

He woke up from a deep sleep to a smell that he was quickly associating with home. His nose touched the nape of her neck, where the smell of her shampoo was strongest. As the cobwebs cleared from his mind, he realized they were both still clothed, having nearly passed out from exhaustion the night before. Marathon sex sessions followed by long work days were something he could have done in college, but those days were long past.

He inhaled deeply and the scent went straight to his groin. She stirred, sighing softly and shifting herself over his lap. He could wake up like this every day for the rest of his life and not get tired of it.

She twisted around and met his eyes. They were most expressive in the morning, before she had time to put up her defenses. That morning, they shone with adoration. He was sure it reflected in his own eyes.

He was falling in love with her. He couldn't deny it anymore. He was falling in love, and it was trouble. He'd backed himself into a corner with his hidden truths.

"Good morning," he whispered, in lieu of saying anything else.

"Yeah," she breathed.

They moved slowly, taking their time. There were no concerns of work or sleep or getting caught by any passersby. There was no adrenaline high or alcoholic influence. It was truly, purely _them_ in that bed, and it was better than all the other times.

He hoped it was enough for her when she learned the truth.


End file.
